No Marriage of Convenience by Elizabeth Boyle Page B

asking a high price of her.
    “Not even your dressmaker,” Mason added.
    “But Mason, not even Lady—” she started, the lace on her cap all aflutter.
    “—No, Cousin. No one. This must be a secret.”
    The poor woman looked as if they had asked her to attend a court levee in last year’s gown.
    Madame Fontaine stepped forward, laying a gentle hand on his cousin’s arm. “Consider my poor servant’s fate. While I don’t know for certain, there were rumors in Paris that his tongue was torn from his mouth after he let some rather confidential information slip.” Madame Fontaine sighed. “It is never prudent to be indiscriminate.”
    Mason nearly laughed as Cousin Felicity gulped and turned slightly to glance at Hashim, who stood in the corner glowering at his mistress.
    She shrugged ever so slightly at her servant, as if to say, Sorry, my friend.
    Hashim’s glower did not soften, but his stance eased just a bit, giving one the distinct impression his reply was, We will discuss it later.
    “Well, what say you, Cousin Felicity? It seems you hold the girls’ future in your hands,” he said.
    At this she let out a little sigh of defeat. “If you insist, Mason. While you might not believe it, many of my friends consider me to be the cornerstone of discretion.”
    At this, Bea let out the most unladylike snort.
    All gazes swung over at her.
    “What?” she asked.
    Mason shook his head. Madame Fontaine surely had her work cut out for her.
    Folding his hands behind his back, he wondered at their apparent acceptance. He should have known better than to think his nieces would give up so easily.
    Louisa spoke again. “All this is well and good, if we keep quiet, but what about her ?” She pointed at Madame Fontaine as one might an unknown carcass at the side of the road. “And him ,” she continued, tipping her nose over her shoulder in Hashim’s direction. “They don’t exactly fit into the usual crowd parading about Ashlin Square. Someone is bound to notice them coming and going, especially done up like that.” She paused. “In case you haven’t met all our neighbors, Uncle, believe me when I tell you there isn’t a one who possesses Cousin Felicity’s ‘cornerstone on discretion.’” She smiled at the elderly lady as if she meant her comment as a compliment.
    While he didn’t like Louisa’s tone, he had to agree with her assessment.
    Madame Fontaine stood out, but perhaps with a changeof gown and a subtler hairstyle, she might blend into the comings and goings of the Square.
    But Hashim? Mason doubted there was any way to disguise the giant Saracen.
    He decided to address one problem at a time. “My niece has a point, Madame. Tomorrow, I would ask that you arrive promptly at seven—”
    “Seven!” came the shocked chorus.
    He noted wryly that even Madame Fontaine had added her voice to this objection.
    “Yes, seven. A very wise Colonial once said something about how the early bird gets the worm. We have no time to lose, since the Season starts in less than a month.” He stood firm and when he heard no more complaints beyond a muttered curse coming from Bea’s corner, he took a deep breath. “So I would ask, Madame, that when you arrive tomorrow morning, you come dressed more appropriately for your station as a tutor to gently bred young ladies.”
    The arch of her neatly shaped brow was her only contradiction to his order. And he knew it wasn’t about the time of day or her manner of dress.
    She probably was wondering where he was going to find the gently bred young ladies.
    “As you wish, my lord,” she said.
    There, that settled everything, he thought. He’d set order to his house, once and for all. In a few weeks the girls would go out into good society, find well-mannered husbands, and move on with their lives so he could continue with hers.
    Mason shook his head.
    No, he meant, continue with his life. Not hers .
    For a moment, Mason closed his eyes to the swell of her breasts